


Abstract

by Omnicat



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/Omnicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heero is sent out into the big wide world to explore his inner self... through modern art. Yeah, right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abstract

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Nederlands available: ['Abstract'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098143) by [CattyRosea (Omnicat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/CattyRosea)



The Winner-Verliér Museum on L4 was one of the most renowned museums in human territory. Nowhere else could one find such a wide variety of early twentieth century artworks. The Museum’s collection was so large that some of the pieces in their possession had never even left the vaults yet.

  
To make the art on display more accessible to the general public (commoners without the thorough knowledge of Earth’s artistic history the founders of the Museum had), special tours and ‘games’ were held each month. This time, visitors were given a form and a pen at the reception desk on which to write down the first thing that sprang to their minds when they saw the paintings, sculptures and furniture on display. The names of the artworks and their creators were covered for the occasion, so that one would not be affected in their judgement by associations they made to the words and names. There were no right answers; when one had seen all the items and filled in the entire form, they would return to the reception desk to retrieve another form, this one containing descriptions of the artwork, the artist, and the meaning attributed to the piece. Then the visitor could either take the tour again with the additional knowledge, or compare their results to the official data on the way home.

  
Heero thought that Quatre, for the sake of his own safety and well-being, should never become a tour guide. He had an unfortunate knack for making people believe they were in for an interesting afternoon. Pleading, bright blue puppy-eyes and pouting lips like his, giving the victim the impression that the slight, sensitive young man would be crushed if his good intentions were turned down, should be made illegal. Relena, with her patient countenance and unyielding grip, was even worse.

  
"A visit to a museum such as this is like a psycho-analysis. According to Freud, the subconscious associations you make when you see abstract artwork tell you something about your inner mechanisms, your primal self. Everyone has a different interpretation of this art form. More fun than interpreting ink stains, if you ask me." she had said. Suspiciously enough, Quatre’s words had been almost entirely the same.

  
"So... _abstract art_ is supposed to tell me something about myself." had been his reaction.

  
"That’s the basic idea."

  
If only he could loath the sweet memories of how she had convinced him to go the night before. Primal urges indeed.

  
Heero stared hard at the piece of canvas in front of him. It was green. Completely green. He looked down at his form. He had never thought the day would come, but he was tempted to write down _a fucking green square_ or _something even more senseless than the last ‘piece of art’ I passed_. Or better yet, _I am bored to tears, somebody put me out of my misery_. Knowing that Relena and Quatre would want to see his results when they were done, he decided for on a toned down version of the first option.

  
Talking of Relena... Heero scanned the room and located her near a clay figure that looked like a toddler had wasted precious little time on it and then dropped a toy on it. Okay, so it looked like a three-dimensional version of the ink stains his psychiatrist would have him ‘read’, if the overly ambitious nutcase got his way. The precedence was nice, but Heero was at a loss as to how Relena put up with the butt-kissing aspect of her status as a public idol/near saint. He was pleased to note that at the moment, she wore a look quite similar to the one she used when confronted with something so tedious yet so Necessary For The Good Of World Peace, she would need his help relieving her frustration once they were back home. Carefully neutral, with just a hint of ‘I’m not listening, can’t you fucking see?’ in the sloping angle of her eyebrows. Oh, the joys of being in a situation to not let a sexy, frustrated woman live things down.

  
As he was spacing out imagining things much more captivating than his current situation, Quatre came up to him and studied the green square with, heaven forbid, sincere interest. Heero shot him a weird look, and Quatre cocked an eyebrow in reply.

  
"This is one that is particularly suited for you, I would think. Don’t you agree?"

A glare was Heero’s only answer.

Quatre looked uncertain. "Could I have a look at your form please, Heero?"

Heero handed his form over mutely, and Quatre scanned the contents.

_1\. The first painting on my route. Lots of yellow. 2. The second painting on my route. Squarish. Boring. 3. The first marble statue on my route. Completely shapeless. 4. The third painting on my route. Messy. No other words for it. 5. The first piece of furniture on my route. Uncomfortable metal chair._

A frown appeared on Quatre’s face as he went further down the list. Heero felt the surprising urge to roll his eyes. The art in this ‘museum’ was absurd. It hardly qualified as art according to the standards Heero had learned to associate with art. Admitted, at first he had skipped any piece he could not place to save it for later, but he had stopped when he realised that he had crossed the entire museum three times already with only two half-hearted attempts at answers to show for it. The tiny, nagging fear that there was something wrong with him after all that prevented him from finding the hidden meaning had evaporated when he had spotted Dorothy Catalonia, staring at what looked like a urinal, meticulously shredding her form, with glazed eyes and her mouth drawn into a grim line.

"So, what does this say about me?" Heero asked, just because the rules of proper etiquette seemed to prescribe such a comment in a such a moment.

"I’m almost afraid to comment on it. You’re still in denial about the existence of your own personality."

Dorothy, ever present to take advantage of her prey, leaned over Quatre’s shoulder, draping herself over him in a way that was evidently much too intimate for him. He wasn’t stupid enough to ask her to move away, though.

"Looks to me like his humour is as dry as the desert you like so much, Mr Quatre." she purred in the Arabian blonde’s ear, making him shiver from the casual contact of her lips with his ear. "You should let Trowa read this. He would have the time of his life, I’m sure."

"T - Trowa?" Quatre protested, seemingly unable to decide between indignation and suspicion. Dorothy un-draped her silk-clad curves from Quatre and stretched like a cat, holding up her hands in a motion of completely unconvincing innocence as she sauntered away. Quatre followed as if he were pulled along by a leash.

Heero made a mental note to ask Dorothy not to haul Quatre in too soon. He wanted the one who had financed this Museum to suffer. No personality? Denial of his own feelings? Hah! Maybe his vindictiveness wasn’t entirely welcome, but nobody had ever said that he had to have pleasant emotions and traits only.

Relena came up behind him and took a peek at his form. "It’s either what they said, or you’re as bored as I am."

She held out her own form for him to look at. He took it, quickly scanned it, and raised his eyebrows. Her answers were almost identical to his, with merely a slightly bigger variety in the ways she phrased the underlying thought of ‘I am bored out of my skull’. She hadn’t even bothered to be diplomatic. Heero shot her a sideway glance.

"Alright, alright, this museum was a bad idea. I’m sorry. Don’t tell anyone, okay. I have a reputation to uphold."

Heero smirked. "Apology accepted. We’ll discuss the means of retaliation later. In private."

Biting back a grin of her own, Relena leaned in to him and whispered in his ear: "You know, Freud was particularly known for one certain aspect of his psycho-analysis. According to his teachings, everything we do is related to certain ‘primal urges’. Am I right in guessing that your... ‘retaliation’ involves these infamous urges?"

"That information is classified, ma’am. But am I to assume that Dr Freud would have attributed even this... painting, to those primal urges?"

Relena laughed. "Alright, have it your way. Yes, actually. He did."

Heero held out his arm, and Relena linked her own arm through his. The museum suddenly seemed much more interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on older fics will ALWAYS remain welcome.


End file.
